First hand experiences of exploring the riches of India. Travelogues, features and photography.

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About Me

I am Arun Bhat, an award winning internationally published photographer and travel writer, based in Bangalore. I spend most of my time travelling through India/abroad working on photography assignments and leading photography tours for Darter Photography or sharing stories of my journeys. Read more about my photography, travel writing and online presence.

Posted by Arun Bhat on September 21, 2017

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There are some spectacles of nature that make you loose your senses and gasp in utter wonderment. I was witness to one such moment a month ago – an unmatched show of the Himalayan might and grandeur as the sun shined on the Panchchuli Peaks and clouds wandered around the body of the mountains, dancing to create a spectacle of light and shade that left me breathless. If I were to die that moment, I would end in utter happiness with an expression of winder permanently etched in my eyes. It was a feeling beyond happiness that falls hopelessly short in words.

The previous day, we had walked through relentless rain and thick blanket of fog that appeared to be endless. Raindrops lashed on our umbrellas making loud enough spatter to drown our own voices. The trail was magnificent nonetheless, taking us through carpets of wildflowers in all of the rainbow colours, and rocky wastelands where the brahmakamala bloomed snowy bright. We were often on a no-more-than-a-foot wide walkway that dropped into gorges with invisible depths vanishing into the fog. Each step reminded me the scale of the mountains, shifting my moods from wonder to terror from moment to moment. Small flowers caressed my feet and filled me with joy, forcing each step into a careful act of love while the giant boulders we crossed incited instants of anxiety. We walked all through the day along wet, foggy landscapes without knowing where we were and not seeing where we were headed, without even a glimpse of mountains across the horizon, blinded by the white blanket and wishing to get on the other side of it.

Every bridge is eventually crossed and every storm has to subside. Our wait lasted a full day before the mountains revealed their meridians next morning. We had spent a night camped in the wilderness without realizing the magical landscapes we had arrived into. On the day-break, a shining Mt.Maiktoli smiled at us and blessed us with all that we had longed for. The morning sun cast a pink glow on the soft-white peak, sent a battalion of clouds to dance around the lineup of snow peaks, and asked if he can be of any more service.

More service, I did ask the sun for! Accepting an unusual insight that dawned into me, I climbed up to a steep ridge behind me struggling more than a half-an-hour on a steep ascent where a small slip could well be my last, and landed on another wonderland of light and shade created by the master craftsman that was unmatched to anything that I had seen in all my life’s wanderings. The Panchachuli peaks stood there, right under the sun, in all of their glory exposed. Clouds formed all around them, swiftly changing locations, each time creating a jaw-dropping formation. They formed many varied constitutions and each time seemed to ask me how do they look, and if I wanted more. Of course, I wanted more. And I had no answers to the ‘how do we look’ question; I was numbed by the beauty, my mind had long since stopped working and there was nothing left for me to say or think. I could stop living that moment and never ask for anything more than what I witnessed that resplendent morning!

Posted by Arun Bhat on August 23, 2017

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A mountain madness that took me through endless rains, ridges that passed through absurdly steep edges and magical high-altitude landscapes. We walked relentlessly, often through pouring rain and blanket of fog without knowing where we are and what was around us. But what we could see–trees that appeared eerie in the fog, fertile high-altitude meadows that supported an army of livestock, spooky high-altitude landscapes and endless fields of colourful flowers–kept us going. One morning, goddess Nanda Devi was pleased with our endeavour and decided to lift the clouds and show us her magic. Magic, it was!

Here is a short time lapse movie of what unfolded in front of our eyes.

(Note: Embedded video included above. If you are reading this on a RSS feeds reader or an email client and do not see the video, please click here to view in a browser. )

Posted by Arun Bhat on July 14, 2016

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As we drove higher and higher–well above 12,000 feet–there was a visible change in the geographical features. The brown slopes of the mountains that adorned a hat of snow on the peak morphed into all-white walls bifurcated by a rough patch of road that allowed us an access. Below us, at the bottom of the valley, melt-water gushed away, making a long journey into the plains that nurtured the civilization of a billion people. Up here, the only sound of life came from the inhabitants of our own car, save for an occasional yellow-billed chough that flew past or a cuddly-looking marmot that scooted away on our arrival. Glaciers dotted the landscapes, adding more force to the river that skirted past their mouths. The enormous tall massifs covered with snow hurt our eyes, and yet, pleased our souls through a sense of calm and magnanimity effused from them. Someone in the car said, “we have reached heaven”. I could not help but nod silently. I did not want to speak up and break the indulgent muses of my mind.

It was a summer afternoon and we were driving towards Penzi-La, the mighty pass that rose above 14,000 feet to partition the valleys of Suru and Zanskar. I was leading a photography tour comprising a dozen trigger-happy people who were willing to go through any struggle to be a part of this gigantic landscape. For past three days, we had come away from the networked world and were camping amidst high mountains, disconnected from everything else but the grandest showcase of nature. We had traversed in the shadow of Nun and Kun mountains, both massive projections from the ground that climbed well above 20,000 feet, covered in megatonnes of snow that shined in the bright mountain sun. click to read more »